Sophia: Athena, Sancta, and Hagia
by Iggy Marauder
Summary: Sophia: "Wisdom." Harry gains the wisdom to question his standing in the war, and seeks out the Dark side to help him gain a better understanding of his world.
1. Only Man Shows The Propensity

**PART ONE:**  
**ATHENA SOPHIA - WISE WISDOM**  
_Chapter 1: Only Man Shows The Propensity_

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**The human animal is a beautiful and terrible creature, capable of limitless compassion and unfathomable cruelty. If you wish to find that which becomes the dividing line between mankind and other biological classifications, it rests not in brain size, dominance, or even emotional capability. It lies within the innate capacity for human beings to reflect on their actions, and show regret. It is most certainly the ability to empathize that gives them their position. All mammals understand love and affection, but only man shows the propensity to place himself into the shoes of another life form. Losing this capability among individuals of the species reduces them from their much heralded position, and readies the climate for the likely fall of man: a fall from grace.  
-"Sophia"  
The Cruxshadows**

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Harry Potter was tired. He was tired of the Dursleys, forever beating him down verbally, emotionally, and physically. He was tired of being ignored, whether by his relatives or his teachers and so called friends, or even the entire Wizarding world. He was tired of being thrust into situations with little knowledge and help.

He could go on for quite a while, but in short, he was tired of his life as it was.

Staring into the the starry night, the pollution light enough that he could make out a few constellations, green world weary eyes, much too old for the malnourished sixteen year old's body, traced invisible patterns in the bruise colored night sky as he thought. He thought about how perhaps Dumbledore was wrong. The old man wasn't above lying to him; there were already numerous times where he had. What if every piece of his, Harry James Potter's, life was a twisted fabricated lie?

Even if that wasn't so, what on earth was he fighting for? Surely not against just families that wanted to keep bloodlines pure and full of magic. What wizard wouldn't want his children to have the ability to be his magical equal, perhaps even be surpassed by his offspring?

What was the other side fighting for? Why did no one expand on this? Was there really a "Dark" and "Light" side? Or was it all truly grey matter until you joined one side or the other?

What was Dumbledore even thinking, thrusting these views down his throat - down all the students' throats - and shoving them into the world and the war?

Harry closed his eyes, rubbing them. He was tired of not knowing.

-----

On the eve of his seventeenth birthday, Harry sat out in the backyard, keeping to the shadows. His luggage, carted as silently as possible out of his room, sat at his feet. Hedwig was long gone, told to roam for a few days until he found somewhere to stay. Then she would come back.

His watch ticked away...and then it was midnight.

Quickly shrinking his belongings and stuffing them into his pockets, Harry jumped onto his broom and flew into the night.

-----

One Severus Snape stared into the flames dancing in his fireplace, a glass of brandy lightly gripped in his long fingers. His thoughts were dark and brooding, his dance with the devil and death in his double agent life weighing him down.

He was in severe danger, as Albus had begun to probe into the Slytherin's mind, taking an interest in the things he kept hidden away. Such as where his loyalties truly lied: at the hand of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

He snorted to himself, bringing the glass to his thin, pale lips. This war was too complicated for simply good and evil, Dark and Light. He had been disillusioned about the "Light" side long ago, starting with the fact that Albus Dumbledore had failed to keep his promise to keep Lily Potter safe. It was Dumbledore's fault that Lily had died. And Severus felt a chill down his back as he remembered the time he had found a journal lying in the corridor. It was Albus' journal, dating back a long time, and revealed that he'd had a hand thrust deep into everyone's lives.

The prophecy Severus had overheard was fake. The Dark Lord went on a rampage for nothing, and he had played straight into Dumbledore's bloodstained hands. Albus had been the one to suggest the Pettigrew be the Secret Keeper.

And Severus, ever the puppet, turned to him for help, and was given hope, only to have it smashed. And when it was, he had agreed to spy for the old man in repentance.

Still, he couldn't hold back his hate for the Potter child. Why should he have survived? Why must he have Lily's eyes? It was all a joke, an eternal hell for Severus' mistakes.

And yet, the journal had flipped his mind over. He had stowed it in his robes, taken it to his rooms, and read it through time and time again. More than once his stomach had turned and his eyes burned.

He'd been slave to a manipulative, murderous man, set on founding the world in his image.

It was then that he'd defected once again to the Dark Lord. He even gave the journal over to the snake like man.

Taking another swig of brandy, he jumped slightly as a body came hurtling out of his fire, falling to their hands and knees as they attempted to catch themself, a broom in one hand and a wand in the other.

Severus scowled, which deepened into a silent snarl as Harry Potter lifted his face and grinned at him.

"Hullo, Professor Snape."

Silence met the green eyed boy's greeting. Harry stood and dusted himself off.

"Sorry to be a bother, but I had to come to you."

Severus snorted and downed the last of his drink, fighting the grimace trying to show itself on his face. "What the bloody hell do you want, Potter."

Harry sat down on the hearth rug, black eyes locked with green before he looked down. Severus inwardly sighed in relief. "I'm not so sure about what I'm fighting for, Professor. I know nothing of Voldemort's side of the story. I doubt that we're really actually fighting against the want for purer bloodlines. If that's all, then I'd say that the Wizarding world is stupid, and I will have to extract myself all together from it." He took a deep breath, then looked up, a fire deep inside those emerald gems. "I came to ask you to take me to Voldemort. I need to know, and I need to know now."


	2. Know Your Enemy

**PART ONE:  
ATHENA SOPHIA - WISE WISDOM**  
_Chapter 2: Know Your Enemy_

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**I'm a victim of my symptom  
I am my own worst enemy  
You're a victim of your symptom  
You are your own worst enemy  
Know your enemy**

**I'm elated  
Medicated  
I am my own worst enemy  
So what ails you  
Is what impales you  
You are your own worst enemy**

**You're a victim of the system  
You are your own worst enemy  
You're a victim of the system  
You are your own worst enemy**

**-"Restless Heart Syndrome"  
Green Day**

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Voldemort sat at his desk, staring blankly at the reports sprawled out on his desk. The feather tip of his quill traced invisible patterns on his cheek as he thought, the ink in the pen having dried up long ago. His left hand rubbed soothingly against his skin, up into his dark hair. It was an unconscious habit that helped him think.

A knock on his door startled him out of his reverie. Crimson eyes curious, as today was a day for completing unfinished work, he waved his hand and let the door open.

"Severus...to what do I owe this pleasure?" Voldemort held back a friendly smile as a heavily cloaked, small figure followed behind the tall Potions Master.

Severus' lips quirked slightly, and he said softly, "My guest and I have some issues to discuss with you, privately."

Voldemort nodded, waving his hand once more, closing the door and placing strong wards up. "Who is your guest, Severus?"

The figure pushed his hood back, revealing brilliant green eyes framed by round glasses, trademark lightning bolt scar showing under his fringe. The Dark Lord merely arched and eyebrow, turn his red eyes to his faithful spy. "Harry Potter has willingly come here?"

Severus made to say something, but Harry grasped his Gryffindor courage and stepped forward, saying, "Yes. I want to know what your views are; why you're fighting Dumbledore and the Ministry. Is it truly rooted in the purebloods' want for magic to stay in the bloodlines?"

Voldemort sighed, leaning back into his chair. Noticing a small inkstain on his hand, he murmured a swift cleaning charm, removing the offending blemish. "It started out completely differently. We were prejudiced against Muggleborns because of their fairytale bullshit. They fear vampires and werewolves and all magical humanoid creatures because of the bedtime stories they grew up on. So we tried to get them to ban Muggleborns from entering our world, because as they gained footholds in the Ministry, retrictions were placed on magical creatures and tightened into a chokehold.

"That was denied, of course. I realize now that it was highly foolish and naive to ask such. To my great displeasure, the Ministry and Muggleborns retaliated by claiming that we had to be racist against blood. There were riots and any followers of mine were often verbally attacked.

"Then Dumbledore stuck his nose into things. He hired mercenaries to kill innocent Muggleborns, placing assumed blame onto our side. Then he came up with that hideous name, Death Eaters. Pah," Voldemort waved his hand disdainfully. "As if I would name my followers such. But as it was, I created my alias and alter-ego, Lord Voldemort, Lord 'Flight of Death.' And things went down hill."

Voldemort leaned back in his chair, leveling his crimson gaze at Harry. "Things became muddled, war broke out. Lies spilled from the Ministry and Dumbledore's mouths, infecting their side and deeming it the Light, proclaiming my side the Dark side. Muggleborns and half-bloods feared pure-bloods, who turned to me for help as the fear simmered into rage and hate.

"It's no surprise, really, that so few on the 'Light' side know anything about why they're fighting. So many who had lived while the political fight started and stayed with the Light had been killed, either dead through a battle or to be silence. Other, meeker souls had their memories modified, and even within the Ministry today, very few know what really started it all." Voldemort ran a hand through his black hair, closing his eyes.

"Then that fake prophecy was released. I was afraid, and angered. War had twisted my mind, and I was no better than Dumbledore himself. I went after you. And I'm sorry to say that I can't even tell you that your mother's love truly saved you. Severus here found one of Dumbledore's journals dating back to around that time, and in it we found that Dumbledore placed ancient spells over you to rebound the curse. Until removed, you'll be unable to be hit by that curse."

Dropping his head into his hands, he said, "The years as nothing but a wisp of a soul drove me insane. So, when I was revived in the graveyard, I had the war time mindset and the soulless insanity clouding my goals and judgement. Though I must thank you, Harry." The teen startled slightly, pulled out of the story by his name. Emerald met ruby, and Voldemort's lips twitched, as if holding back a smile. "If not for your blood, I'd no doubt be ugly and insane yet. Thanks to you and your blood, I've been able to think clearly. Now, we will set ourselves back on the course we were on. Though, I fear I'll have to dispose of some Death Eaters, here only for the pureblood farce."

Voldemort hummed as he fell into thoughts, and green eyes studied him. A pale, thin, and lanky man, with a thin nose, thin lips, narrow crimson eyes, and shoulder-length black hair, styled similarly to Severus'. Long fingered hands resembled graceful spiders as they danced over the silky looking locks. The Dark Lord looked to be in his early thirties; he must have used a potion to undo some of the aging.

Then Harry delved into himself, thinking it all through. Truly, he believed Voldemort. He was never manipulated by the man. No, that was a lie; the Department of Mysteries fiasco was a manipulation of his dreams, but at least he'd admitted to it.

And if Harry believed him...then all he knew would shatter. And it did.

Harry realized that his entire life had been a lie. One big lond lie that extended past even his life and into the lives of his elders. If he had been manipulated, then his family had been too...which extended to Lily, James, Sirius, Remus...and Severus too.

Turning to look at the Potions Master, he saw the tightened jaw and the slight sheen in his eyes. Severus, Harry suspected, had been in love with his mother. Something he'd picked up on when he'd catch the man giving him an almost wistful look, and then turning away in pain when they locked gazes. His Lily Evans eyes disturbed Severus.

Then...rage boiled within him. He'd been forced to live with Petunia Evans, and her despicable Dursley spouse and spawn, all of his life for no reason, other than manipulation. He didn't know his parents, he didn't know Severus or even Sirius or Remus well enough to be spiteful, vengeful, hateful over them. But he, himself...he knew all too well. And he'd let himself play straight into Dumbledore's traps without ever questioning it.

And if hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, Harry was well on his way to creating something much worse than hell.

So lost in his thoughts was he that he didn't notice his magic had been lashing out until he was hit with a calming charm from Severus.

One eyebrow rose, dark eyes questioning. Harry gave him a small smile in thanks, then turned to the watchful Dark Lord.

"I wish to join you, Voldemort. But as your equal."


End file.
